


The Target

by Opium_du_Peuple



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Attemped murder, Explicit Language, Hannigram - Freeform, Hitman AU, M/M, Manipulation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-05 07:48:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1810795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opium_du_Peuple/pseuds/Opium_du_Peuple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hitman AU. The Agency, led by Jack Crawford, is the best organized hitman agency of the United States and specializes in taking care of bad people. When it comes down to taking care of the Chesapeake Ripper, Jack needs his best agent and empath Will Graham on the case. But as Graham gets closer to his target, things don't quite go according to plan...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

**Author's Note:**

> Still not speaking English as my first language so if any mistake make your eyes bleed please tell me!  
> Also, first work, very anxious about all this, don't beat me to death, I'm just a lost soul drowned by boredom  
> Yes, the title is lame, sorry, lacked of inspiration there, same goes for the chapter's title tbh

"Hannibal Lecter" Will read out loud.

"More commonly known as the Chesapeake Ripper." added Jack, staring at his employee from his desk.

He liked Graham, he really did. The man was good at his job : efficient, precise, discreet and an excellent shot with all that. But his mood swings were a pain in the ass to deal with. Graham had refused to execute a case more than his superior allowed his other agents to. But Jack needed his best man on this one, this particular one. From his large desk, he was carefully examining Will's features while the latter was skimming through Lecter's file. According to his experience with the man, the frowning and mumbling weren't signs of great interest. That's why he had kept a trump up his sleeve, just in case 

"Isn't he the serial killer that keeps slipping through the FBI's fingers?"

"Precisely."

There was a good reason why the FBI couldn't catch as many serial killers as they would like to : the Law. It prohibited them from investigating further on their suspect and overall, it was more of an obstacle than an asset. Crawford's Agency didn't have to deal with the law, however. Which meant that his research team would find the identity of a killer and establish his profile more efficiently than the FBI's.

"I don't know Jack..." 

Will had just got back to the Agency a couple hours before this meeting. His last mission had drained him from all his energy and motivation. All he could think about right now was a good glass of whisky and a hot shower. His flight has been endless and uncomfortable, not to mention the clock above Jack's desk reminding him that he hadn't slept for two days.

"I really, _really_ , need you on this case Will."

Jack opened a drawer and pulled out a dozen photographs before handing them to Will. The man frowned.

"What is it?"

"Photographs of Lecter's murder. Directly hacked from the FBI's confidential files on the Chesapeake Ripper's case. A little... incentive, if you will."

The Head of the Agency was well aware of his employee's particular gift. His empathy was what made the difference between him and the other agents. Will was able to get inside his targets's heads and figure out their weaknesses, making his whole job a hell lot easier. And nothing was more effective to trigger his overactive imagination than a graphic depiction on his target's atrocities. Apparently, Jack had hit the nail on the head and hid a small smile as he saw Will's eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree.

"Well? What do you see?"

"Beauty."


	2. In the Dead of the Night

Lecter's file was thorough. Will had to thank Beverly Katz from the Research Department for what he guessed had been long sleepless nights of investigation. He had recognized her work through its attention to details. All was there, Lecter's workplace, schedule, known past, abilities... Everything from his bank account details to his favorite tea company.  
The established schedule indicated that Graham's target would be out of his place of residence between 9 and 11pm, giving Will the time to break into his house and wait for his return. According to the architecture of the place and its surrounding buildings, a simple shot with a sniper rifle wasn't manageable. A good old shot with a muffler should do the trick. It usually did. All the more so since "avoid close combat / hand-to-hand fighting" had been written in bold letters under Lecter's case specificities. 

Will had parked his car a few houses away from the doctor's. Far enough not to be spotted but close enough to reach if he needed a quick getaway. To be fair, his targets weren't exactly the chasing type once they had been taken care of. But how the saying goes, better safe than sorry. The agent tucked his SIG-Sauer P226 into the back of his pants and stepped out of the car. 

** 

Breaking into the house had been easier than expected. For a serial killer, Lecter was a bit low on security cameras, elaborated alarm systems or even massive, unpickable locks. Strange for a man whose hobbies included killer and cooking people in his own kitchen, but not the strangest behavior Will had ever seen yet. Reckless was rather the word that came to mind.  
Sat in what he believed to be the living room, Graham was patiently waiting for the doctor to come home. Since he had cut off the electricity, the whole house was shrouded in darkness. Working in the dark was double-edged. Will would take advantage of the element of surprise but his target would quickly use the familiarity of his whereabouts to defend himself. But then again, his targets hardly ever had the time to do so. 

He checked the time on the fancy and undoubtedly outrageously expensive clock facing him. 10:45 pm. 

** 

At precisely 11pm, Hannibal Lecter turned his key into the keyhole of his front door. Punctuality, according to the doctor, was a quality everyone should possess. His first step into his hall got suspended by an ice cold shiver along his spine. He stopped for a moment, staring into the darkness. Something had mingled with the usual scent of oregano and thyme floating in the mansion. Something strong, spiced, and – to be frank – quite displeasing. The smell of cheap cologne overwhelmed Hannibal's senses and the fact that he wasn't alone appeared as more than a mere fit of paranoia. This stench... 'I'd never be caught dead wearing that' he thought. A careful push on the light switch informed him that his visitor had played with the fuse wires. 

He had to think about his next move, quickly and efficiently. Faking a relaxed composure, Hannibal took off his coat and hung it to the stands, muttering in frustration : 

"The fuse wires, once again..." 

He made a few steps towards a piece of furniture. Inside one of the drawers, he found a paper knife sharp enough to defend himself and slipped it inside his shirt-sleeve. Good. It wasn't a scalpel but it could always become handy in a minute. He also retrieved a small flashlight out of the drawer, turning it on right away. There was not way of knowing whether the intruder was still here or not. But a mere burglar wouldn't have touched the electricity, meaning his tangible assets weren't the goal here. He was the goal. 

Hannibal made his way towards the generator, careful step after careful step, pricking his ears up at every sound. The house was awfully quiet, too quiet for it to be normal. The song of his pulse, calm and steady was resounding in his head. As he reached the large black box containing all the the electrical installation, he sensed it. Or rather smelled it. The stench. Behind his back. His visitor had eventually joined him to play.

In a split second, the sole source of light faded as Hannibal turned the flashlight off, ducked and tackled his adversary's ankle. The latter lost his balance and landed on the mahogany floor with a groan. His paper knife in hand, the doctor managed to locate the body and positioned himself astride his future victim. The room was too dark for him to see his face, even this close, but his heavy breathing lighted a smile on Hannibal's thin lips. 

A smile that quickly transformed into a grimace of pain. The intruder had managed to escape from his grasp, enough to give him a knee strike in the abdomen, leaving him gasping for air. The paper knife rolled on the floor in a metallic sound. The other man tried to get up, groping his way around the room. In a jump that cost him all of the breath he had left, Hannibal enclosed his legs to make him fall down once again. Here they were, two shadows standing out against the wall in the dim moonlight. The Chesapeake Ripper against God knows who. A fool, a reckless fool. But a brave one. For a moment, the all too quiet house was filled with the sound of their fighting, panting and groaning. Hannibal closed his hand against the man's throat, feeling his pulse against his fingers, the rhythm of the life he was about to take. 

"Remarkable boy. I do admire your courage. I think I'll eat your heart." 

A punch in his ribs loosened his grasp, allowing the other to take the advantage. Another kick in the stomach rolled him over, breathless. The sound of a gun being armed. Laying of the floor, Hannibal Lecter was waiting for a bullet to lodge itself into his skull. He was waiting. And waiting. And even then, his pulse kept its peaceful rhythm. It was the only thing he could hear, that and his executioner's heavy breathing. 

Or so he thought. 

Footsteps. The intruder left. No bullet. No death. Just a bit of blood on the mahogany floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god I'm so ashamed of my writting right now >.>  
> Thanks you all for the kudos and comments, it means a looooot !!


	3. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouuuh longer chapter here! Thank you so much for you feedback you're all really lovely *-*  
> Here comes Bev' who I looooove to write as an explicit language lover!  
> Hope you enjoy and see you next chapet ;)

"15 million dollars, Will! 15 million! _That_ was the price on Lecter's head!" 

"I know, Jack, I..." 

"Shut up! I'm not finished here!" 

Will had expected some yelling from his boss, for course, but he suddenly felt like he was back in his high school principal's office. Pacing around his desk, Jack looked as if he was about to flip the wooden piece of furniture over. The news of Will's failure had traveled fast, fast enough for him to be summoned here first thing in the morning. 

"Have you _any_ idea of what it implies? Of the money you've wasted on research? Of our _reputation_?!" 

To be fair, Jack could tell his agent had not spent a lovely evening either. Deep cuts were visible on his eyebrows behind his thick brown curls, matching with the cut on his lips and several purplish bruises were blooming all over his neck. But in his fury, the head of the Agency had pushed these details into the background to focus on more pressing issues. 

"Your record was pristine, Will! Never failed at your job in 3 years and now what?" 

Yeah, now what? Will thought. Jack could not possibly fire him after one failed case, he knew for a fact that several agents had screwed up in the past without suffering any further consequences.  
Will took advantage of a short lull in Jack's telling-off to make a suggestion. 

"I can still go back there, Jack! I can make this right. Lecter can't have took off over night." 

Jack stopped pacing all at once in a deep sigh. This had been a long, excruciatingly tedious morning. He sat in front of Will and rubbed in eyes, visibly calmer. 

"No you can't. You're off the case, we all are. Apparently the silent partner needs more 'efficient' and 'trustworthy' professionals to take care of Lecter." 

A long silence followed his words, along with an awkward atmosphere. Both men remained silent, not really knowing what to say to the other. Losing 15 million dollars in a blink of an eye was a lot to digest and both had a bitter tang in the back of their throats. 

"I'm sorry Jack." Will finally uttered, breaking the ice between them. 

"Just... Out. Go make yourself useful. Katz needs someone downstairs." 

Taking his chance to get out of this situation, Will needn't be told twice. Once out of the office, the stifling air of the corridors greeted him, clashing with the cold shoulder he had just received. He stepped into the elevator and pressed the 'RD' button for Research Department. The doors weren't even closed that his mind was already wandering. 

Why didn't he do it? What in God's name had kept him from pulling the trigger? What was it about this particular case? Why couldn't he let go of it? All of these questions and many more had kept him awake all night, worsening the condition of his already sleep deprived body. He could reenact the scene in his head as well as if he was still there. Lecter on the floor, himself, his index finger on the trigger, ready to shoot. But something had stopped him. A feeling. He had felt... guilty. Guiltier than he was feeling now that Lecter was still alive.  
I'll eat your heart, Lecter said. But what he was actually eating now was Will's brain. 

The "ding" sound of the elevator made the worn-out agent jolt.  
The Research Department was pretty much made up of different offices assembled together, communicating with one another by large glass doors. Privacy was laughable concept down here given that anyone could be seen by his peers. It was the main reason why Will didn't particularly like the place. Another was Brian Zeller, but it was a completely different story. 

Beverly's office was empty when Will stepped in. It was to be expected, the members of the research team were often going from office to office to share or ask for information. The screens of her numerous laptops indicated that she wouldn't be gone for long. Will sat on a desk chair, staring blankly at the screens. He was about to doze off when Beverly got back to her fief. 

"You look like shit." she stated, taking place next to him. 

Will rubbed his face in his hands, fighting not to give out a loud yawn. A bag of vinegar flavored chips in her hand, Beverly stared at her friend and colleague, not knowing whether or not she should be amused or worried. 

"Yeah well Jack's sermons will you that to you." 

"I do hope so, that's one month's worth of investigation you screwed." 

There was no real reproach in Beverly's voice, she just had a burning passion for teasing Will. But that's how they were. 

"Sorry..." 

"Don't mention it..." 

They remained silent a moment while she started eating her chips and tapping a few things on her main laptop. But eventually, she couldn't help herself but asking : 

"What the hell happened back there?" 

Will sighed, uncertain of the answer. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. 

"I don't know... It's almost as if... As if he knew I was there. I don't know how he figured it out but he knew. He took me by surprise in complete darkness. Thanks for the 'avoid hand-to-hand fighting' tip, I surely should have take that in account." 

"At least Jack doesn't have to beat you up." 

"Sticks and stones may break my bones but Jack can't fire me." 

They both laughed. Reopening his eyes, Will looked at every screen in front of him. Blood, dead children, photographs of broken mirrors... Another case. It couldn't be one of Lecter's murder, it lacked... grace. 

"What are you working on?" 

"Same as ever. That fucking Tooth Fairy keeps himself very well hidden. I've been working on him for three months now and there's not even a glimpse of evidence leading to his identity." 

If there was something the Agency hated, it was unattainable targets. Even with its resources, hacking softwares and so on, it couldn't get its hand on the family killing Tooth Fairy. Will wasn't even on the case but the tension due to its difficulty could be sensed throughout the walls. And even though his empathy was awakened by the sight of the photographs, there wasn't enough to establish a psychological profile. 

"A shame your doctor Lecter's a cannibalistic serial killer. I could use his insight right now." Beverly laughed. 

But Will wasn't laughing. Feeling perfectly awakened, he kept staring at the screens, ready to unravel the Tooth Fairy's riddle. 

"Can you get me a copy of the Tooth Fairy's file?" 

** 

The phone rang in doctor Lecter's office, filling the vast room with its irritating song. The doctor pick it up without rush, stating smoothly : 

"Doctor Lecter's office?" 

"Allo? Yeah, I'd like to make an appointment." 

"Sure. I will be needing your name, sir." 

"Graham."


End file.
